


The more we find

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [19]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blushing, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 01 AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dear god, the fluff, the fluffiest thing that has ever been written, wtma AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: Tommy once told Alfie he doesn't blush. Which of course means Alfie has to find a way to make him do it. He finds quite a few, though mostly by coincidence.A collection of little moments where Tommy and Alfie are falling in love, but just haven't realized it yet.





	The more we find

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this message on tumblr: Ok so i’m actually very intrigued about the ending of Kiss with a Fist about where Tommy claims he doesn’t blush or get flustered and Alfie insists he can make him? Would love to know if Alfie ever succeeded, after all Alfie was right, Tommy would look very pretty when blushing ;)
> 
> This is literally the most tooth-rottingly sweet thing I've ever written. And that's saying a lot, considering some of my other work. But sometimes, you just have to write about those little moments you have when you're falling head-over heels in love with someone, and are caught in that bubble you know? This is literally just that. 
> 
> Set throughout the course of my other works in some in-between moments.

 

Tommy claims he doesn’t blush. 

That time in his office, when he came to Alfie in an absolute rage only to minutes later throw himself in his arms. That first time they kissed. _I don’t get flustered. And I don’t blush._ That’s what he said, wasn’t it?   

Alfie doesn’t believe Tommy for a second. Because Tommy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, has he? And he seems like the type who’d blush in the bedroom: so fucking uptight. Something about that pristine exterior, those high collared shirts that are always buttoned the entire way… how he holds himself –that straight posture… yeah, Alfie recons it’ll shake him up a bit, if he says something along the lines of ‘I’d like to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week-“ 

He figures that when he starts running his mouth, Tommy will blush like a fucking virgin on their wedding night. He looks forward to that, admittedly. Because some pink would look pretty on those sharply cut cheeks. And maybe Tommy will avert his eyes, and those long eyelashes will flutter a bit … Right, so Alfie may be a little smitten, what of it? 

He doesn’t say anything too bad to begin with, because due to reasons yet to be figured out, he finds himself not wanting to scare Tommy off. So he gives it a few weeks, spends his energy on more important things. Like keeping Tommy from wandering off in the middle of the night, or make sure his brain doesn’t implode from overthinking every single little thing. Keep him from drowning in that self-loathing, that he’d sooner shoot himself in the knee than admit suffering from.  

Tommy is so riddled with issues that it makes Alfie appear sane in comparison. 

Alfie strangely enough finds himself wanting to make it better. 

So he spends most of his energy just trying to reassure Tommy that he’s not about to fuck off. Figure out a few ways to soothe some of those demons constantly trying to claw themselves out of his chest. And in the bedroom, he just wants to make sure it’s good for him. God knows what Tommy’s been through to make him this way, Alfie hasn’t figured that part out yet. But he can’t risk anything: Tommy needs someone considerate and perceptive in bed that much is clear. Alfie tries to be all that and more. And it turns out, that the bedroom is one of the few places where Tommy doesn’t mind talking. 

When it comes to fucking, Tommy is utterly shameless. And he’ll plead and order Alfie to have him all sorts of different ways, without missing a beat. Any filthy thing Alfie says is just met by a quirked eyebrow or a slight smile, as if Tommy is challenging him to prove it. Or spurs him on; encourages him to moan just a little louder, or beg Alfie to take him harder…

Alfie fucking loves it.

Though it leaves him wondering: What exactly is he supposed to do to throw Tommy off, just a bit? He's yet to be successful at this. But Alfie isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

... 

They’re tangled up in bed and everything is perfect in that surreal, dreamlike way only a bedroom filled with warm morning light can be. Tommy's eyes are all soft , his hair is dishevelled, and Alfie gets to hold him close as he basks in the afterglow of some absolutely amazing sex. 

 _And they say you can’t have everything…_  

He’s talking about nothing in particular, letting his mouth run as usual. Because Tommy likes it. Seems to ground him a bit. Just as being held soothes those intrusive thoughts. 

Suddenly, Tommy laughs at something he’s said, and Alfie stops rambling to look at him. It’s probably not quite the first time he’s heard him laugh. But Tommy’s laugh is often this quiet little outlet of breath more than anything. And every time, he chokes it back just as quickly. Alfie always relishes it none the less, because for just a second, it makes him look childishly happy.

And this time, it’s an actual laugh. The kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corner, and his teeth show in a wide smile that lights up the entire room. 

“Now that’s a beautiful sound,” Alfie says without thinking. It’s just an immediate reaction. 

Tommy stops laughing and blinks. “What?”  He honest to God looks surprised. 

“Fuck, you oblivious bloody person, the laugh.” Now it’s Alfie’s turn to chuckle. “Never heard it like that before.” 

“You’re so full of it,” Tommy scoffs and looks away, without finding an actual spot to focus his attention on.       

And a deep shade of pink tints those pale cheeks. Finally, he’s got it figured out. Alfie is very pleased indeed.

“But would you look at that-” he grabs Tommy’s jaw and admires his handiwork with a smirk “Of all the filthy things I’ve said to you, who would’ve thought an innocent little compliment would do the trick?” 

“Fuck off-“ Tommy scowls and grabs his arm, only to be pinned completely as Alfie rolls on top of him and presses both his wrists down onto the mattress. Tommy glares up at him without averting his eyes, doing his very best to assert non-existent dominance in the situation. His cheeks are still red. 

“You have a beautiful smile, too, you know that?” Alfie’s toothy grin softens to an affectionate smile, as he leans forward until the tip of his nose touches Tommy’s. “See, your eyes light up. And you get these little dimples in your cheeks, right here-“ he places a light kiss on the mentioned spot. 

For once, Tommy loses at his own game and lowers his eyes, lips tightening as he quite clearly bites back a smile. He’s quite unsuccessful, and it makes for just as beautiful a sight as Alfie knew it would.

Tommy looks vulnerable like this, eyes downcast and lips forming a soft smile. It does strange things to Alfie. Fills him with this viciously protective instinct. And it’s sort of worrying, because feelings like that usually leads to trouble. Does all kinds of strange things to the head… 

“You know that’s why I’m always talking your ear off, right?” He whispers and rests his forehead against Tommy’s. “Because sometimes, I manage to say something that makes you smile.” 

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Tommy declares, but he’s still smiling. 

It’s a beautiful thing indeed. 

Alfie only wishes Tommy would do it a bit more often. He decides that from now on, that will be the number one priority.

... 

Over the following months, Alfie discovers that Tommy does in fact blush quite easily. Not when Alfie makes dirty jokes or innuendoes. Not even in public, when he leans in and whispers in his ear just how hard he’s going to fuck him once they get home… All of that is just met by that smirk. But longwinded compliments, things that no-one else dares pointing out about the so intimidating Thomas Shelby, that does the trick. Tommy retaliates, stating it’s because he’s pale. It’s got nothing to do with anything else. Well, he can tell himself that all he likes. And Alfie doesn’t really care why he blushes, he just enjoys every instance of it.

... 

They’re walking along the Thames, and the sun is shining from a sky almost free of clouds. The air is filled with that mood only spring can bring after a seemingly endless winter, this sudden optimism that just surges through the city.  

It’s nice, being out during daylight, Alfie muses. Hasn’t been much of that these past few weeks; either they’ve been cooped up in some office until late afternoon, or the sky has been covered by thick, grey clouds. But this day has brought something so unusual as sunlight, so when lunchtime rolled around, Alfie firmly stated that a walk was in order, ignored Tommy’s protests and ushered him out the door.

“Not a too bad idea, this, eh?” Alfie nudges Tommy’s ribs with an elbow. “Just look at that, actual sunlight. But take that thing off, bet it’ll do those pale cheeks some good.”  

Alfie snags Tommy’s cap and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. 

“You’re on thin ice, Solomons,” Tommy says without much conviction and turns his face toward the sun in an instinctive response to the warm light. His mouth twitches too, another one of those reactions ingrained in all humans.

Those mid-day walks become a regular thing the following days, when the sun continues to shine an unordinary amount of light over the city. And one morning when they’re sitting by the kitchen table, Alfie notices the freckles on Tommy’s cheeks. He’s looking up from the newspaper, watching him over the edge of his glasses when the little dots sprinkled over Tommy’s cheekbones and nose catches his attention. Tommy is busy reading something from the previous day’s paper. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful,” Alife says, shaking his head. “Fucking hell. I’ll have to start taking little breaks from looking at you, won’t I? Or I’ll never get any work done ever again. Maybe I’ll put up some sort of wall around you at the office-” 

Tommy glances up. “What are you on about?” 

“I didn’t know you freckled.” Alfie smirks. “Should’ve figured though, what with your fair complexion. It’s bloody precious.”

As always when he’s lacking a witty response, Tommy is silent and focuses his attention elsewhere, namely back on the article.

“People will start just dropping dead at the sight of you,” Alfie goes on. “Won’t even have to carry around those razor blades.”

Grumbling something in Romani, Tommy attempts to hide behind the newspaper, but Alfie folds it down to reveal two quite red, freckled cheeks and a scowl.

“You’re just saying shit like that because you like watching me suffer,” Tommy states.  

“I’m deeply offended,” Alfie gasps with feigned indignation. “That you would accuse me of such manipulative tactics.”

He reaches over the table and grasps Tommy’s hand, kissing the palm lightly. Tommy’s expression softens. “I always find something new to marvel at with you, love.” Alfie mutters against his skin. “And then I’ve got to point it out, don’t I?” He runs his thumb over his knuckles. “That you blush a little is just an added bonus.” 

Tommy lets out a defeated sigh, but grants him a slight smile. 

And when Alfie lets go of his hand and goes back to the paper, it only takes a few minutes before it finds his again, reaching across the table to absentmindedly stroke his knuckles.

Right then, Alfie thinks about just how much things have changed for the better over the past months. Who would’ve thought then that Tommy, who couldn’t even bear to share a bed an entire night, would casually take his hand at the breakfast table? 

He’s a lucky man, alright.

 ... 

It’s a strange feeling, realising that someone else’s home has also become yours. Mostly hits you when you go inside without knocking first, and no one attempts to shoot you in the face for it.

Alfie opens the door to the Shelby household without giving it a second thought. And it’s not until he’s stepped inside that he realises it.

He finds Tommy in the kitchen with Polly, engaged in a conversation of unspecified nature. 

“If it isn’t the light of my life, just sitting there by an ordinary kitchen table!” Alfie exclaims when he enters the room. Tommy’s entire face lights up, as if they haven't spent a week apart, but an whole year... and it’s such a thing, innit? To get that reaction. Alfie’s chest fills with warmth. He continues- “My reason for getting out of bed in the morning, the man of my dreams, whose beauty is beyond compare-“ 

“Will you ever just calm the fuck down?” Tommy shakes his head, smile unwavering and gets out of the chair. 

Two long strides, and Alfie has his arms wrapped around his waist and is kissing him with almost feverish intensity. He lifts him off his feet, and this is one of those rare occasions when Tommy doesn’t demand to be let back down. Instead he wraps his arms tightly around Alfie's neck as he kisses him back. 

It’s just been one week. But it feels like a fucking eternity. 

Instead of thinking about how this is going to be what finally does him in, Alfie revels in the feeling of having Tommy in his arms again. Where he's supposed to be.    

It’s such a cliché, but for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world just fades away. And all that exists is Tommy’s soft lips against his, the hands that tangle into his hair, the warm breath against his skin-

Someone clears their throat quite loudly and the sound breaks him out of the blissful haze. Tommy pulls away and blinks as if he’s just woken up, and Alfie is suddenly very aware of his surroundings again.   

Polly is giving them a look over the edge of her teacup. 

“Oh, no worries Solomons, pay no attention to me. Just keep trying to devour my nephew in my kitchen,” she says, not without amusement. It probably has something to do with how Tommy looks.   

Tommy has never, to Alfie’s recollection, blushed when he’s kissed him in front of any of his siblings. With the possible exception of Finn, if the kiss happens to be coupled with some groping. 

But now it very much looks like he wants to sink through the floor. 

“My deepest apologies Miss. Gray, where are my manners…” Alfie reaches over the table, takes Polly’s hand and kisses it in a theatrical gesture. “How is the Shelby family's matriarch on this beautiful day?” 

“Just go upstairs you two,” Polly shakes her head, but a smile crosses her lips. “You’ll give me cavities.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to protest, but Alfie is already dragging him towards the door.

“Better do as told, love. Terrible dental care in this fucking town, I’m sure.”

“Remember to lock the door,” Polly calls out after them. "And that the walls are thin. I'd like to finish my tea in peace." 

 ...

One of all the things Alfie enjoys about waking up together with Tommy is getting to see him dress in the morning. Something about the way his hands look, when fastening all those normally so obnoxious buttons... Or tugs at the shirtsleeves to make them sit right under the jacket- 

He likes watching Tommy get dressed almost as much as he likes undressing him. 

Alright, maybe that’s not entirely true. But it’s pretty high up on the list. 

Tommy is standing by the mirror over the wash basin, adjusting the collar of his shirt. Deciding that he’s done with his own clothing, Alfie comes up behind him and runs his fingertips up along his ribs. It’s a gesture he’s done a million times, but maybe the touch is a bit different today, or in just a slightly different spot, because Tommy suddenly flinches. A thought crosses Alfie’s mind. 

“Are you ticklish?”

Tommy must notice the grin on his face, because a sudden look of dread comes over his face for just a moment.

“No,” he then says firmly.

Without giving him any sort of warning, Alfie grabs him by the waist and pushes him down onto the bed, straddling his thighs and pinning his wrists against the mattress. The movement is swift and well-rehearsed, and Tommy doesn’t even bother struggling, he just stares murderously at him.

“Really? So it’s fine if I do this?” Alfie experimentally pokes him in the ribs, causing him to twitch. 

“It’s fine,” Tommy states, but he’s very soon about to regret those words. Because Alfie makes use of all his fingers, and very soon, he’s got Tommy shrieking and pushing desperately against his hands to no avail.

“Alfie, I’ll fucking kill you-“  

“Maybe if you beg a little, I’ll stop." 

“Stop it, for fucks sake-“ Tommy is gasping for breath, squirming and kicking in a futile effort to get away. “Alfie, stop- I swear I’ll shoot you- Stop!“ 

“Oh you can do better than that,” Alfie digs his fingers into Tommy’s sides and tickles him until he’s on the verge of tears and making sounds that are closer to cries than actual laughter. Writhing like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox, he grasps Alfie’s arms and tries to pry them away. Alfie rarely takes full advantage of the fact that he can physically overpower Tommy, but now he does, and refuses to relent.

“Please, please stop-“ Tommy pleads, finally giving up as he’s out of both breath and strength to fight back. “Alfie, please-“

“Solomons! What’re you doing to my brother?” Someone bangs violently on the door. “What’s going on in there? Tommy, you alright?”

It’s Arthur, of course. Who else? 

“Fuck off, will you,” Alfie barks, and sits back on Tommy’s thighs. Coughing as the air gets caught in his throat with each harsh breath, Tommy attempts to gather himself. 

“It’s fine, Arthur,” he croaks between gasps, sounding extremely unconvincing.   

“Solomons, open this door or I swear I’ll break it down and smash it over your fucking head!” 

Letting out a very displeased grunt, Alfie goes to open the door before Arthur actually does attempt to kick it down. 

Arthur is fuming. 

“Good morning Arthur, what a lovely fucking surprise,” Alfie says amiably. “I thought we were past this whole thing by now. But apparently not.”   

“Well, it sounds like there’s a murder happening in here!” Arthur snaps and looks over his shoulder at Tommy, who’s sat on the bed trying to straighten his appearance a bit by smoothing his hair back. It only makes matters worse, and it stands on all ends. 

“How thick do you think I am, eh?” Alfie retorts. “Why would I kill Tommy in your fucking house? Bloody hell, I can’t even get a moment of peace to fuck him. Let alone commit murder. I’d do it back in London, obviously…”  

Arthur ignores his little rant. “You okay, Tommy?” 

“Sure-“ Tommy rubs an eye with the back of his hand in an attempt to clear it from tears.   

“He’s just a bit ticklish, that’s the whole thing,” Alfie declares. 

There is a moment of silence.

“Ticklish?” Arthur looks between them, eyebrows raised. 

Alfie hums and Tommy just stares very firmly at the floor to avoid his older brother’s eyes.

“Your face is all red.” Arthur eventually tells him gruffly, before stomping off, muttering something about ‘bloody children, the pair of them, fucking hell…’ 

Alfie turns back to look at Tommy, smiling brightly again. How can he not, when Tommy is sitting there looking so utterly adorable? 

“I will get revenge for this,” Tommy gets up and starts to readjust his dishevelled clothing. “Mark my words.”

“How about I make it up to you instead, hmm? Tonight in bed.” Alfie tugs him closer by the lapels of his jacket and places a kiss on his warm cheek. “I’ll do some of those other things with my fingers... Make you beg for entirely different reasons.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Tommy braces his hands on his chest. “But any more of this behaviour and you can look forward to a night on the couch.”

It’s an empty threat, and they both know it.

 ...

It’s another one of those blessed mornings in bed, when the world is quiet and the sun shines in through the curtains. 

Tommy is curled up mostly on top of him, arms resting on his chest, cushioning his head and legs tangled with Alfie’s. He props his chin on his hands and looks thoughtfully at Alfie, who eventually stops talking. 

“Something on your mind, love?” he runs his hand thorough his sleep mussed hair.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Tommy says, fingers tangling into his beard like they so often do. “Was just thinking about that.”

Alfie, for once, doesn’t know what to say. It’s unlike Tommy to be so straightforward with things like this. 

“I think you’ve got me confused with yourself,” he finally says and much to his annoyance feels heat creep up his neck. “See, your eyes- I’m pretty sure entire wars could be fought over them. Have you heard that story about Helen of Troy? Something like that-“

“Don’t make this about me,” Tommy laughs and looks very pleased. “You have beautiful eyes. And a beautiful face. Live with it.”

Alfie feels that he is definitely quite red in the face now, and attempts to derail the conversation.

“Did you know that the Trojans, yeah? They built a wooden horse. A fucking wooden horse. See, because they had this plan-“

Tommy kisses him and Alfie has to stop talking. For once.   

 


End file.
